Missing
by overthemoon07
Summary: Roger's missing. Oneshot. Written for rent100.


021. Friends

Title: Up On The Roof

Word Count: 1008

Characters: Maureen/Mark, Roger, Collins

Summary: Roger's missing

"Mark, where's Roger?" Collins called from the bedroom he shared with the musician.

"I don't know. Isn't he sleeping?" Mark shouted from the kitchen. He peered around the corner into the hallway as Collins emerged from his bedroom. Collins shook his head.

"He's not in here," he said.

Mark jogged down the hall into the bedroom and rustled the sheets on Roger's bed. He turned around and rested his hand on his forehead.

"Mo, have you seen Roger lately?" Collins called down the hall.

She stuck her head out of her and Mark's bedroom and shook her head.

"He's not in there with you?"

Mark jogged back down the hall out into the living room. He paced nervously back and forth muttering things to himself. Maureen followed Collins down the hall towards Mark.

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit." Mark said angrily. "Where the hell did he go?"

Maureen looked over at Collins, hoping he'd have answer, but she found he was giving her the same look. Collins leaned over and picked up his jacket.

"I'll go check around outside," he offered.

Mark heard Collins say something, but he wasn't listening. He continued pacing, racking his brain for any place that Roger might venture off to. Maureen looked curiously at Mark, wondering what he was thinking.

"Maybe I'll go with Collins," she suggested.

Mark waved at Maureen, acknowledging her comment, but he still wasn't listening. Maureen, a bit offended by his lack of attention, picked up her coat and chased after Collins. Mark's heart began pounding in his chest as he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. A cool draft blew through the loft. Mark didn't take much notice until Roger's sheet music blew across the living room. His head spun around, eyes darting around the corners of the apartment, looking for the source of the wind. The cool gust whipped across his face again, nipping at his cheeks. The small window leading to the fire escape was cracked open.

"Thank God," Mark sighed. He jogged over to the window and pried it open. Mark stepped out onto the metal platform and sighed. The railing was cold on Mark's fingers and they quickly went numb as he climbed the fire escape up to the roof. He tossed his right leg over the roof and nearly tripped as he tried to bring the left one over, too. Mark stumbled to catch his balance as he slid to a halt.

"Rog," Mark called. "Roger."

Mark walked slowly along the rooftop, searching for his friend. He rubbed his hands together, blowing into them in an attempt to warm them. His blue and white striped scarf wrapped itself tightly around his neck; a dark gray sweater clung loosely to his abdomen. His sneakers scuffed along the icy roof as his eyes scoured the top for the blond guitarist. He paused momentarily besides the large metal piping near the center and listened carefully. He heard the faint sound of the shuffling of feet coming from the other end of the roof. Mark skidded across the top of the loft and peered around the large hunk of metal. There, curled in a ball on the ice, sat Roger, his teeth chattering and his body shaking.

"Roger!" Mark said, hurrying over to his friend's side.

Roger didn't look up at Mark. He hugged his knees tightly to his chest, his dark muddy boots sticking out underneath him. His face was scruffy - he hadn't shaved in weeks. Roger's hair had started to grow out and his untamed mane was thick and tangled. Mark knelt down beside Roger. Roger's bloodshot eyes avoided Mark's stare. He glared down at the ground.

"You scared the shit out of me," Mark said quietly, taking a seat beside Roger.

Roger remained silent. He just stared down at the ground, ignoring Mark. He didn't want to look at Mark, didn't want to talk to Mark. He just wanted to be left alone. Mark folded his hands together, looking off into the horizon as Roger continued to shake. Roger sniffed quietly as he placed his palms over his eyes, leaning his elbows on his knees. Mark shivered as the cold air stung his face. He hadn't been out filming lately since the withdrawal began. He and Maureen hadn't made love since the withdrawal began. Come to think of it, he hadn't done much but baby-sit Roger since the withdrawal began. And for the first time, Mark was feeling angry. He wasn't a selfish person; he knew that Roger needed him. But if Roger wasn't going to try, then he wasn't sure that giving up the other things he loved, putting them second, was worth it.

"What are you doing?" Mark asked without looking over at Roger.

Roger shook but he didn't speak. He folded his arms across his knees and set his forehead down on his arms.

"What are you doing?" Mark repeated the question, louder this time. "Why are you out here? I had no idea where you went. God, for all I know, you could have been off getting high or running away or something stupid like that." Mark yelled angrily.

Roger looked over at Mark. "I miss her," he mumbled.

Mark glanced over at Roger. His face was wet, his eyes were red and he could barely talk. Mark turned away again and rubbed his face in his hands.

"I know you do," he said.

Mark felt guilty for yelling. He shouldn't have been so harsh. Roger was shaking more violently; he didn't know if it was from the cold or the withdrawal or from his sobs, but Roger couldn't stop. He collapsed into Mark, weeping and trembling. Mark wrapped his arms around Roger, pulling him closer, trying to warm him. He rocked gently back and forth, holding Roger as he cried. Warm tears of pain rolled down Mark's cheeks as the pair sat holding onto each other. Mark quieted Roger's whimpers for April as best he could, trying to comfort his friend.

"It's okay, Rog," Mark said quietly. "I'm here."


End file.
